


child's play

by chocobos



Series: child's play [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Kindergarten & Pre-school, Alternate Universe - humans know about angels, Cute, Fluff, Human/Angel Society, Kid!Fic, Like seriously this is really schmoopy, M/M, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-15
Updated: 2013-02-15
Packaged: 2017-11-29 07:56:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/684624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chocobos/pseuds/chocobos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The new kid is weird, is an angel, and Dean can't really help but find himself wanting to be his friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	child's play

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I'm still in the process of moving my fic over here. I wrote this about a year ago, so it's not a new work! This is an AU verse wherein humans are aware of angels and their existence and the work/go to school with each other. Dean and Cas are both six, and they go to school together.
> 
> I have one more fic in this verse and I plan on writing more, so stay tuned if you're interested :)
> 
> Beta'd by my good friend Rosie, back in the day.

The new kid is kind of weird.  
  
Dean doesn’t really know if ‘weird’ is the correct word here or not, but he never really talks to anyone, and his eyes are always on the floor, or they’re looking between the floor and his back, almost as if he thinks someones going to come up behind him and do something mean. He’s never really understood this. But Dean knows in his six and half years that he’s not really supposed to understand a lot.  
  
The new kid is also an Angel.  
  
Dean’s never met one before, not before the new kid–but it’s not like he’s ever really met him either. He’s kind of sacred, or at least that’s what his mom says. They’re still a new creature here on earth, but a welcome one at that. His mom says that they’re here to co-exist with the humans to try and see if they’re even able to do so. Dean thinks that it’s easy to live amongst people, because they’re nice and always give him free samples at grocery stores and compliment him on what a big boy he is–and he’s only six. He doesn’t think his father likes them very much, but his father doesn’t really like anything.   
  
The other kids in Dean’s class don’t pay much attention to him, and if they do they either make fun of him or ask him about heaven. Dean’s never been there himself, but word on the street is that it’s pretty nice. The new kid doesn’t answer them, doesn’t really acknowledge them really, and Dean doesn’t know if that’s because he’s not allowed to or because he doesn’t think they’re worth his time.  
  
Dean’s always been different than other kids, but not in the way this Angel is. His mom tells him that he’s really smart, that he pays attention and catches onto more than most kids do, and that he’s the sweetest boy–but Dean also caught her whispering this to Sammy, too, so he’s not really sure how true that one is. He’s never really felt like the other kids either. He’s always been more interested in cars, and trains, and trying to help his dad fix up old station wagons that come through his shop sometimes.  
  
His dad always says no, but sometimes there’s this look on his face that tells Dean he’s close to saying yes. He knows that he’ll have his chance soon, and the thought makes him more excited than it should.   
  
So anyway, Dean has had enough of watching this kid from a distance. He seems lonely, and the thing is, Dean’s sort of lonely too, has always felt like an outcast in the group of kids that are in his grade, and sometimes, he feels like it’s okay to try to make friends. He thinks this new kid might be worth it, but his mom says he’s kind of optimistic. He doesn’t really know what that means, but it doesn’t really sound so bad.  
  
“Hey,” Dean says, coming up and sitting beside the new kid. He looks up, blue eyes intense and wide-eyed, kind of like he didn’t expect Dean to come over here.  
  
“You’ve been watching me,” the boy says instead. His voice is different. It’s kind of low, but not like an adults, almost like his voice can’t decide whether to be big or little. Dean decides he likes it.  
  
Dean flushes a bright red, because his skin is fair and it shows everything. He almost denies it, but there’s something in the boys eyes that scream at him not to. So he doesn’t, even if he doesn’t quite understand. “Uh, yeah,” Dean answers.  
  
The boy nods. “I noticed,” he says, coolly, and his wings flutter against his back.  
  
The boy has wings, too. At first, Dean didn’t know what to think of them, because they’re kind of really big, especially for someone as small as he is. They’re this rich black color and they glitter in the sunlight, kind of like Cullen, but cooler, because it’s the new kid and he’s pretty sure Angel’s don’t drink blood. But they’re kind of really nice looking, and while Dean knows it’s not really appropriate to think those kind of thoughts about wings–especially on an angel–there’s something about them that make Dean want to reach out and touch them.  
  
He’s never seen wings in real life before. His mom told him that they were sensitive and shouldn’t be touched, at least not without the Angel’s permission. Dean knew this was an important point, that it was kind of the Angel’s way of handing over trust to you.   
  
Dean really wanted to touch this boy’s wings.   
  
“I’m Dean,” he says, holding out a hand, because that’s what grown-up’s do, and he feels like the biggest grown-up a six-year-old can be.  
  
The boy stands at his hand like he’s not quite sure what to do with them, but is pretty sure he’s actually disgusted by it. “We’re not grown-ups,” he points out.  
  
Dean frowns. He doesn’t understand what the big deal is, but he thinks the Angel might be a treditional kind of boy. “No,” he agrees.  
  
“I’m Castiel,” the boy introduces. His wings flicker against his back agian.  
  
“Castiel?” Dean asks, wrinkling his nose. The name sounds foreign on his tongue, but he decides that he likes it anyway.  
  
“It’s an Angel’s name,” says Castiel, in a type of tone of voice that Dean has recognized on adults. He’s always thought it was the kind that adults used when they thought they were so much better than children because they were smart and older and didn’t smell like mud and sweat all of the time.  
  
“Oh,” Dean says. “I like it.”  
  
Castiel’s eyes appear to be brighter. Dean decides that he probably likes that more. “Really?”  
  
Dean nods. “I don’t say somethin’ unless I mean it, kid.”  
  
“No one’s ever said that to me before,” Castiel says, his voice a little breathless, almost like he doesn’t believe what Dean is saying.  
  
Dean makes a note in his head, that if he and Cas stay friends, that he’s going to tell him that every single day. Everyone deserves to hear that they have something special, he thinks, no matter how small or big it is.  
  
“I’d like to be your friend,” Dean says, after they sit in silence for a while. He notices that Castiel’s shoulders are visibly more relaxed, that his wings fall softly against the picnic table they’re sitting on for recess.  
  
Castiel looks over at Dean, alarm and intense. “What?”   
  
“I’d like to be your friend,” Dean says, and then blushes red, redder than he ever really has.“I’ve never really had a friend before. Not except for my baby brother, Sammy. But he’s mine always, so that’s different. Do you have brothers? Mine slobbers a lot.”  
  
Castiel doesn’t really look like he understands, but he shifts closer to Dean anyway. “I’d really like that, Dean,” Cas says, and Dean feels so very happy, because he sounds like he means it, and no one’s ever said that to him while meaning it before. “I have brothers,” Castiel confirms. “There’s Gabriel. He eats a lot of chocolate, which Father doesn’t really like.”  
  
Dean doesn’t mention that he only mentioned one, but instead smiles at Cas brightly, because he thinks that Cas is probably the best friend he could ever really ask for.  
  
*  
  
It happens three weeks later.  
  
Castiel is crying when Dean’s class let’s out for recess.  
  
Castiel and Dean have become inseparable since they met. They do everything together–Dean even roped in the lunch chaperon to let them sit by each other even though they weren’t in the same section for lunch–and Dean couldn’t really be happier. Cas is weirder than he thought he was at first, but he looks at Dean like he’s understands more than anyone really has, and he feels like his in the way that Sammy did on default.   
  
The one time they have to separate is when they have to go to class to learn about the alphabet and how many numbers there are between zero and ten. Dean doesn’t like this, because Cas is small and doesn’t know how to defend himself, and he always feels safer when Castiel is close to him. He tried to tell this to his principal, that he and Cas needed to be together because it was the most important thing in the entire world. But the principal didn’t think so, which Dean thought was pretty rude.   
  
So they don’t have the same class.   
  
This is the reason why Dean finds Castiel sitting on their usual picnic bench, crying. He’s covered in mud and his shirt is wet, the pens he keeps in his shirt pocket are gone, and Dean realizes that they’re all over his pants. This could have been avoided if they were in the same class. Dean makes a note to remember to tell his mom that she needs to write a letter to the school telling them about how awful their program is if it separates such awesome friends like them.  
  
He heads over there, feet pushing him faster than he’s ever ran before. “Cas?” Dean asks, and nearly sits on him with how fast he’s trying to get to his best friend’s side.  
  
Castiel doesn’t look up, just continues crying into his hands, and Dean feels something red and hot and ugly bloom in his chest. He’s not really sure what it is, but he’s sure his mother referred to it as anger when she was talking to his dad one time.  
  
“Castiel,” Dean whispers, and then suddenly his hands are around Castiel’s small frame, and he’s hugging him so tightly and he realizes that he doesn’t care that he’s hugging someone else. All he cares about is taking away Cas’ pain, and if that means hugging him until his arms fall off, then he will.  
  
When Castiel doesn’t answer again, Dean lets out an angry puff that ruffles Cas’ hair. “I’m going to kill whoever made you cry Cas,” he says, decisively.  
  
This gets Cas’ attention. “No!” He screeches, so loud and heartbroken, and Dean feels guilt run through his veins. “Don’t leave me, Dean. You can’t go to prison. It’ll only make it worse.”  
  
“I won’t leave you,” Dean promises. If Cas doesn’t want him to go, then Dean will stay. “What happened?” He asks, gently, in the voice that he uses to try and get Sammy to hand him back his hot wheel cars.  
  
“Alistair put glue in my wings,” he whispers, “and then Ruby explodeded my pen and it ruined my pants,” he stammers, voice wavering.   
  
Dean’s fists clench against his thighs and he almost gets up and marches over to punch Alistair in his stupid little face. He would never hurt a girl, but he vows to put glue in that hairspray that Ruby is always fond of, because he can’t take knowing that someone else put their hands on his Cas, especially if it wasn’t nice.  
  
“They’re going to get killed by my wrap!” Dean shouts.  
  
Cas looks up, his eyes bloodshot and red, so Dean wipes his tears away with the back of his hand, because that’s what friends do. “It’s wrath, Dean,” he corrects, but it’s weak.  
  
“What can I do to help?” Dean asks, because he’ll do anything to see Cas smile at him with those insane blue eyes of his.   
  
“Don’t worry about it, Dean,” Castiel says, but the tone of his voice tells Dean that he should worry, that there’s something he could do, but that something is what he’ll never ask of Dean.   
  
Dean thinks he knows what.  
  
“Cas,” he whispers gently, “I’m going to touch your wings now, okay? I’m going to pick out the glue so they won’t hurt anymore, so you won’t hurt anymore.”  
  
When Cas doesn’t tell him to stop, Dean reaches back with careful fingers, and brushes them against the soft looking feathers. They’re softer than they look, and they feel like the satin sheets on his mom and dad’s bed, but better. They’re better because they aren’t his parents’ sheets, they’re Cas’. Cas doesn’t do much of anything, really, he just sits there patiently.  
  
Dean can tell he’s holding his breath.  
  
His fingers reach the first knot of glue, and Dean can’t suppress the feeling of rage that colors his vision red for a moment. But it quickly passes, so Dean carefully picks it out of his hair, and notes that some water would probably make this whole process easier.   
  
He doesn’t care, though, because Cas is still crying, like he doesn’t think Dean’s hands will actually help, and Dean sets out to prove him wrong.   
  
*  
  
When he’s done with the last piece of glue, it’s nearly the end of recess, but Dean doesn’t really mind. He feels accomplished and proud, and feels closer to Cas than he ever really has.  
  
“I’m sorry, Dean,” Cas whispers, sounding so sad even though his eyes are happy and content.   
  
There are dried tears on his face, and his eyes are still pretty red, but he looks happier. Somewhere between the first and the third knot of glue, Cas relaxed into his touch, and Dean knew that he was going to be okay.  
  
Cas was always okay, and even if he wasn’t, Dean would always be there to make sure he was.  
  
“What for?” Dean asks, turning to his friend in confusion.  
  
“I took away your recess,” he says, sad, so very sad. “We could have talked about fun things or played Hide and Seek again but I ruined it by being sad.”  
  
Dean shakes his head, and looks at Cas like he’s losing his mind. In that moment, Dean thinks that he really is. “I’m glad I could make you feel better,” Dean says, and then blushes red. “I’m glad I could make you happy. That’s all the recess I need.”  
  
Cas looks at him in surprise, but there’s a smile tugging at his lips so big that Dean is nearly knocked over by the urge to hug him. So he does.  
  
“Dean,” Cas says, and it doesn’t really say much, but for some reason, Dean thinks it’s all they really need.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to follow me on my Tumblr, where I'm also taking commissions and regular prompts: 
> 
> sassfleet.tumblr.com


End file.
